


strawberries and swarovskis

by candypoppin



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Class Issues, F/F, Protests, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candypoppin/pseuds/candypoppin
Summary: In which Sally Zhou's father runs a chain of fast-food restaurants, and Son Chaeyoung works at one of them.Or:In which Chaeyoung, a committed anarchist, falls in love with a rich girl moments before flinging a strawberry straight at her face.Other stuff happens too.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Son Chaeyoung, Im Nayeon/Kim Dahyun, More to come
Comments: 13
Kudos: 77





	1. in which tzuyu gets a strawberry to the nose

**Author's Note:**

> find me on blue bird hellsite at @candypoppin
> 
> thanks due to the chaeyu cult (you know who you are) for encouraging this epic folly

“ _NO JUSTICE!_ ”

“ _NO PEACE!_ ”

“ _NO JUSTICE!_ ”

“ _NO PEACE!_ ”

Chaeyoung’s ears were ringing. Bodies pressed in on her from every direction, forced together by the barricades and the water hoses and the mad swings of the cops’ batons. The pungent stench of sweat suffused her entire environment; owing to her height, she had no idea where she was going. Heck, it was so crowded that she couldn’t even remove her phone from her pocket to activate her GPS.

Experimentally, she exerted pressure in various directions. _Newton’s Third Law, right? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction._ It took a few minutes, but eventually she determined that the way to go was forward. So forward she went, elbowing and nudging her way through the chaos, forcing herself through the mess of limbs and torsos and necks and chests.

Chaeyoung was loathe to admit it, but here - lost in the maddening roar of the crowd, the _mob_ \- she was utterly at home. **_This_ ** _is what democracy looks like_ , she mused, pleased that her thoughts were still coherent, still organized. She’d never felt as gloriously alive than when she was participating in a protest; true, this one was a bit more cramped than usual, but the energy was still there. And the energy was the most important part of a protest, because it meant that people _believed_. It meant that people yet retained their hope.

Suddenly, a hint of light caught her eye, and Chaeyoung came to a halt, her heart beating crazily against her ribcage. Where were they? Dusk had almost fallen; were those streetlights that she was seeing? Was she at the forefront, the vanguard? The thought flickered through her mind as the crowd crushed against her back; Chaeyoung stumbled forward, hands flailing, and scrambled to get a grip. A thousand anonymous hands saved her from falling, hoisting her up, and set her back on her feet.

That - yes, that was another reason why Chaeyoung loved participating in protests. This was real community-mindedness; without even having to be asked, people would shield one another with their bodies, help one another to their feet, provide information freely and gladly. _This is how society should be_.

The crowd surged again, and this time Chaeyoung was ready for it. On she marched, boots crumpling against the asphalt, propelled by the force of a thousand bodies. There were about three or four layers of people between her and the very forefront of the march, which was good; at least the air didn’t smell so stale anymore. With some difficulty, Chaeyoung raised her fist to the sky and pumped it in time with the chants.

That was when she realized that the timbre of the chant had changed. About ten or twenty people had spread out across the length and breadth of the crowd, toting megaphones; it was they who were leading the chant. The megaphones were passed from hand to hand; it kept things decentralized. Chaeyoung approved.

“ _NO JUSTICE!_ ”

“ _NO PEACE!_ ” Chaeyoung shouted.

Abruptly, the crush of bodies came to a stop; Chaeyoung squinted through the gaps in the crowd and saw that barricades had been erected along the entirety of Fifth Avenue. The protesters in front fanned out, splitting to the left and to the right, like water crashing against a stone. Chaeyoung headed to the right, following the woman immediately in front of her. Someone shoved her, again; she cursed, made a mad grab for the woman’s leather jacket, and grimaced as she was all but hauled to safety.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung huffed, catching her breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Us humans need to take care of one another, no?”

“Right on.”

The other woman’s expression changed as her gaze was caught by something behind Chaeyoung. “Look sharp,” she whispered, voice lowering. “The limousines are coming.”

One of the megaphones crackled; Chaeyoung winced as the static pierced her ears. Then:

“ _EAT YOUR PHEASANTS! DRINK YOUR WINE!_ ”

Chaeyoung grinned. She loved this one.

“ _YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED, BOURGEOISIE SWINE!_ ”

“ _EAT YOUR PHEASANTS! DRINK YOUR WINE!_ ”

The woman beside her inhaled deeply and bellowed, “ _YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED, BOURGEOISIE SWINE!_ ”

Slowly, but with increasing urgency and increasing violence, the barricades began to tremble in time with the words. Cops, their faces taut behind their gas masks, took up position and struggled to hold them steady. There was a crackle as one of them stepped onto a podium and started to shout. “ _Please step back from the barricades or we will be forced to use tear gas,_ ” he called. “ _Please step back from the barricades -_ ”

“ _YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED, BOURGEOISIE SWINE!_ ”

There was a roar as the barricades gave way. Chaeyoung heard the meaty thud as batons collided with bodies, but her mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only: getting at the limousines. Quickly, she slipped between the two cops in her way and sprinted for one of the vehicles, reaching into one of her many pockets in search of ammunition.

_Oh, great. A red fruit. Very symbolic._

As she closed in on the limousine, the tinted window came rolling down. As it came down, Chaeyoung decelerated as well, the _thump-thump-thump_ of her combat boots throbbing in her ears, the sound mixing and blending with the thud of her heart.

It would have been ridiculous to say that time slowed down, or came to a standstill, but that was exactly how it felt to her.

There was a girl inside the limousine, a pretty one, with large eyes. Her eyes were the first thing that Chaeyoung noticed - that, and the soft curve of her jaw, the crimson of her lips, the look on her face as the strawberry exploded across the tip of her nose -

A large hand grabbed ahold of her collar roughly; Chaeyoung choked as she was pulled backwards and thrown to the ground. Almost immediately, she was catapulted back to the present. Quickly, she struggled upright and pulled out a mask, stuffing its two ends under her cap, and tensed her legs to run, only for the cop to grab her arm, fingers tightening painfully on her elbow.

Then there was a _crunch_.

Chaeyoung turned around, eyes going wide, and saw the woman in the leather jacket. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and her own mask had been partially damaged, but in that one moment, she had never seen a more beautiful person in her entire life.

(Apart from the girl in the limousine.)

\-----

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Allan cursed. “Why did you have to open the fucking window?”

Sally ignored her older brother and continued to wipe at her face.

The strawberry had caught her smack dab on the tip of her nose, and her entire face had been caught in the blast radius. Fortunately, her dress hadn’t been damaged. It was a pity, though; her handkerchief hadn’t been designed to mop up a mess of this magnitude. She’d have to get a new one.

“- bunch of barbarians,” Allan was saying. “Lock them all up in jail like the spoilt children they are -”

Carefully, Sally smoothed down her dress. To her own, reasonably uncritical eye, it was beautiful, a resplendent crimson number brought to birth by a team of skilled designers. Small Swarovski crystals had been painstakingly sewn into the fabric. It had cost her mother a lot; Sally wasn’t sure of the exact price, but it was somewhere in the neighbourhood of five digits.

“Sally. Hey, Sally.” Allan leaned over and snapped his fingers. “What are you dreaming about? Put on your game face. Put away that soiled scrap of cloth. It’s showtime.”

Like the dutiful daughter she was, Sally folded her handkerchief and stuffed it into the cup holder beside her. As the limousine came to a stop with a purr, she redid her makeup, took a deep breath, and slapped a smile on her face as the doors were opened for her. The glare of the cameras momentarily knocked the breath out of her - as it always did - but Sally was used to the attention.

What she was _not_ used to, though, was having a strawberry lobbed at her face by a pretty girl.

As the click-click-click of the shutters faded into silence, drowned out by the soft murmurs of the crowd and the tinkling of champagne glasses, Sally frowned to herself and shook her head lightly, taking care not to make her earrings jangle obscenely. Why was she so fixated on that girl? Not only had she not done anything nice to her or for her, she’d gone one step further and almost damaged her five-figure dress.

As always, she smelled Natalie’s distinctive sakura perfume before she saw her.

“Sally, oh my god, are you okay?”

Sally rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And what about your dress?” Natalie rubbed her hands enviously over the Swarovski crystals. “God, I’m so envious. It looks _so_ glam.”

“Oh, stop it. You look gorgeous!” It was true; Natalie _did_ look gorgeous in her Valentino gown. She always did.

“You’re both gorgeous, okay?” Sharon touched her back once, lightly, and shot her a small, shy smile. “Sally, our limousine was right behind you… are you alright? It looked terrifying.”

“You shouldn’t have opened your window,” Natalie said, a bit reproachfully. “Should’ve just let that fruit splatter harmlessly against the glass.”

“It was a strawberry.”

Natalie sputtered. “Yes, and? God, that thing was probably diseased. Fruit worms, you know?”

Jocelyn joined them as they glided past another exhibit. “Barbarians,” she was saying, quietly and angrily. “God, Sally, I’m so sorry you had to experience that. I’ll get my uncle to step up policing. It’s what he ought to do…”

“Yes, yes, we know, your uncle is the mayor.” Sharon made a small, economical motion and smiled in satisfaction as one of the waiters came to a stop beside them. “Come on, drink up - you especially, Sally.”

Sally took a sip and breathed in, once, deeply. The cool, crisp air of the museum was suffused with a dizzying array of bewitching and expensive scents, and yet… and yet… there was something missing.

That was why she’d rolled down the window - to smell the world outside. To breath the same air as the rest of the city. But… it didn’t explain why her hand had twitched just so, bringing the window down just in time for the girl to lob that strawberry straight at her face. Had it been a simple muscle tic? Or had it been a reaction to that single-minded, determined look on her face?

_You’ll probably never see her again._

Yeah, she probably wouldn’t.

Sally finished her glass of champagne and hurried after her friends.

\-----

Chaeyoung skidded to a stop, panting, her breath coming out in loud, wet gushes. Her coat had stuck to her back, clammy with sweat. Turning her head to her left, she spotted her saviour lying spread-eagled out on the grass, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Slowly, she stumbled over, sat down on the grass, and proffered her hand. “Didn’t catch your name,” she gasped. “I’m Chaeyoung.”

“Jeongyeon. Yoo Jeongyeon.” The woman in the leather jacket - Jeongyeon - struggled into a sitting position, pulled off her mask, and smirked at her. “So, how did it feel to get one of those bastards right in the face?”

“It was a girl, actually.”

“A girl,” Jeongyeon repeated. “Okay. And? How did it feel?”

“Great,” Chaeyoung lied.

“That’s the spirit.” Jeongyeon crossed her legs. “Did you shout anything? A slogan? Something appropriately bloodcurdling?”

 _I wish I had_ , Chaeyoung thought. “Um, I said something along the lines of ‘their blood is on your hands’.” _At least, I should have._

“That’s perfect, that is.” Jeongyeon let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, fished her phone out of her pocket, and tapped out a reply. “Say, are you interested in attending a party? A bunch of folks from today will be there.”

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Excellent.” Jeongyeon tapped at her phone a bit more, rose to her feet, and set off in what looked to Chaeyoung to be an arbitrary direction. “Come on, Chaeyoung. Let’s go and celebrate the end to yet another successful demonstration!”

Chaeyoung stuffed her hands in her pockets and followed.


	2. in which tzuyu goes out for dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just thought i'd better get this out before it starts to fester on my gdoc. let me know if it's weird
> 
> @candypoppin on twitter

“ _One more minute, ladies!_ ”

Sally tossed her head, the bones in her neck grinding, as droplets of sweat spilled in every direction. Blasts of cold air tickled her spine as her legs pumped, methodically, mechanically, churning relentlessly onwards, her eyes staring blankly into the spit-shined floor-to-ceiling mirror. On her right, she could hear Jocelyn audibly trying (and failing) not to pant.

Sally’s schedule during the week was fairly regular, and had been meticulously planned out by Robin, her PA. (Well, strictly speaking, he wasn’t _her_ PA, but Mother sometimes lent him out to her and Allan from time to time.) Essentially, she had barre on Monday, yoga on Tuesday, Pilates on Wednesday, spin on Thursday, and CrossFit on Friday. She’d synchronized those activities with Sharon, Jocelyn and Natalie, and it was practically _de rigueur_ for the four of them to go out for dinner immediately after their post-workout shower.

Dinner was usually healthy, but today - since it was a Thursday - they’d be doing what Natalie loved to call “dirty bulking”, which usually meant something over five hundred calories. Essentially, they’d walk into a random restaurant, sit down, and order something from the menu. Which was something that they only did once a week. It was, all things considered, a special occasion.

“ _And… done!_ The sound of applause echoed in Sally’s ears as the cool-down began. Bringing her frenetic cycling down to a low boil, she reached to her left, searching blindly for Jocelyn’s towel, and passed it mutely over to her friend before grabbing her own.

The room was silent for a few minutes.

As always, Jocelyn was the first to open her mouth. “Alright,” she said, briskly, sliding off the bike and flopping over to the door, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m _famished_.” As the door clicked shut behind her, Sally glanced across the room, at Sharon, and then at Natalie, who still hadn’t budged.

“Need help?”

“Nah,” Natalie gasped, one hand on her hip, and carefully inched herself back to the ground. “God, that was exhausting.”

After their shower, they assembled inside Jocelyn’s bedroom and took turns to dry each other’s hair while playing with her Pomeranian. As Sally scratched Kookeu’s head absently, her toes curling and uncurling into the carpet, Sharon was the first to broach the subject. “So, where d’you want to go?”

Natalie looked up from where she was blow-drying Jocelyn’s hair. “Is it my turn to choose this week?”

“Yep.” Sharon reached over and slapped Natalie’s bare shoulder playfully. “Now, don’t go leading us into another one of those hole-in-the-wall joints. You know what happened last time.”

“There’s always a ‘last time’,” Sally muttered.

“Hey!”

Sharon shot her a vaguely admonishing look, but it was true. Whenever they went to one of Natalie’s “dirty bulking” picks, they almost always ended up getting into some sort of trouble. Last month, for one thing, Jocelyn had had too much to drink; her parents had had to spend a veritable fortune on nipping that scandal in the bud. Before that, it had been another incident, though that one had been easier to hush up. Generally, though, letting Natalie pick where to eat never ended well. Never.

“Fine,” Natalie groaned, rolling her eyes, “we’ll go to one of Sally’s restaurants.” Then she perked up. “But we’ll go to someplace in the north!”

“The north?” Jocelyn made a face. “Whyever would we go there? It’s…” She didn’t say the words out loud, but they all knew it.

The north was poor. Not comfortably poor (like their university’s charity cases), but _poor_ poor. The sort of people who lived there shot them dirty looks as they walked past, the shopping there was limited to grimy, badly-lit shops filled with seedy characters, and - it must have been almost a year ago - Jocelyn’s Louboutin sneakers had been ruined by a wad of chewing gum while they were walking back to Sharon’s car.

“Can’t we go somewhere more central?” Jocelyn asked, plaintively. “Not that I’m scared, but…”

“It’s not safe,” Sally finished.

“Oh, come on. We’ll just park somewhere nearby, get in, and get out. It’ll be an adventure!” Natalie ran her hands through her hair, arched her back, and collapsed onto Jocelyn’s overstuffed bed. The sound of her wheedling trickled back to them from where she was lying, staring at the ceiling. “It’ll be fun! Come on.”

Sharon and Sally exchanged glances. “Oh, fine,” Sharon muttered.

\-----

“Would you like fries with that?”

The man on the other side of the counter shot Chaeyoung a dubious look. “No,” he retorted. “Just the fries. Fries and a Coke.” Turning around, he shuffled over to the corner and huddled up in the booth which he had been occupying for the past few days. She and Yeri had gone at that booth with detergent a few times, at the behest of their manager, but it hadn’t done much, and now most customers avoided that corner like the plague.

Speaking of Yeri… “I’ll take it from here,” her colleague muttered, nudging her shoulder, and Chaeyoung nodded curtly, pulling smoothly away from the counter and retreating back into the kitchen. There, she took up position in front of two vats of boiling oil, beside which a pile of potato skins sat, and started lowering the latter into the former mechanically. All around her, the kitchen was a scene of barely controlled chaos, filled to the brim with workers bustling to and fro, chopping and slicing and dicing and frying frantically at their individual workstations.

Chaeyoung didn’t like working at Zhou’s Street Food Kitchen, but it paid the bills. Her student loans were high enough as it was; her parents were already contributing as much as they could, and her brother was still in school -

“Fuck!” Chaeyoung grimaced, swatted at her cheek with a paper towel, and balled it up in her fist before throwing it into a nearby bin. As it disappeared, she could already see the boiling oil spreading through the paper. She’d gotten distracted. Gritting her teeth, she got back to work.

A few minutes later, Yerin (not Yeri - Yerin was her manager) came over. “Hey, Son,” she muttered. “I’ll be taking over, but don’t go running off - I need to brief you on something.”

A briefing? That didn’t sound good. Chaeyoung had been working at this outlet for the past few months, and was moderately well-liked (if only for the fruits that she always provided to her colleagues for free), so… was she being fired?

“I know that look on your face - no, you’re not being fired,” Yerin snapped, eyes fixed on the warm glow of the oil, and picked up where Chaeyoung had left off only moments before. “Okay, listen. Do you know Roger Zhou?”

“No.” _And if you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I care little and less._

“Okay, so he’s my boss’s boss’s…” Yerin jerked her chin impatiently. “Basically, he runs all our restaurants. He’s at the top of the pile. And his daughter’s sitting outside.”

 _Great._ But Yerin hadn’t finished.

“She’s with three other girls, and they all look -” Yerin pressed her lips together - “rich. And I think she’s expecting someone to take her order. And someone to bring her food over.”

Chaeyoung did not like where this was going.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you how important this is,” Yerin continued, entirely oblivious. “Mr Zhou has been cutting down on restaurants to reduce costs, so… I don’t want to give him a reason to come down hard on us.”

 _You don’t know that_ , Chaeyoung almost retorted. “So…”

Yerin groaned. “Are you going to make me spell it out?”

 _She’s a worker, just like you. She’s being exploited, just like you. Don’t raise your voice at her._ “No.” Chaeyoung forced her fingers to uncurl. “I understand.”

“Alright? Great.” Yerin jerked her chin. “Grab my notebook and a pencil - you know where they are. Can’t miss ‘em.” (Yerin liked to sit in the back and study whenever they had a few moments of free time. She’d be graduating next year.)

Chaeyoung pivoted on her heel and made her way to Yerin’s desk. _Should’ve just said no to this job_ , she thought, savagely. During her five-minute-long job interview, she’d been asked by Yerin’s predecessor - a blonde boy who’d left the city long ago - whether she’d be willing to accept a pay cut if her performance wasn’t up to standard. Other questions had been asked, too. “Under what circumstances would you be willing to call in sick to work?” “What are your preferred working hours?”

She should’ve answered honestly. She really should’ve.

Yerin’s notebook was on top of her pile of textbooks, her pen beside it. Chaeyoung snatched both of them up and stomped out of the kitchen. Her shoes skidded over the faded linoleum, zigzagging around paying customers, and slowed down as they approached the table. As Yerin had said, there were four girls, one on either side of the booth. One of them was picking up a napkin between two fingers, another one was complaining about the smell, and a third one - who had her back to Chaeyoung - was tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. The fourth one - who also had her back to Chaeyoung - wasn’t doing anything particularly galling, but still…

“Hi,” Chaeyoung gritted out, “may I take your order?”

“Oh, hi,” Complainer said, slapping a grin on her face and none-too-subtly giving her a once-over, “we’ll be having, uh, four burgers. And four Cokes.”

“Too many calories,” Foot-Tapper hissed.

“Do you have a calorie-count for your burgers?” Napkin asked.

“Uh, the fish burgers are pretty light.” Chaeyoung had taken up position at the head of the booth, and was now glancing curiously at Girl No. 4 out of the corner of her eye. Her head was down, and she was on her phone. It was strange, but something about her was familiar. She couldn’t place it, but…

“No calorie-count, then,” Napkin noted. “Sally, why don’t you make a note of that?”

Girl No. 4 had nothing to offer to that but a grunt. Yes, there was definitely something familiar about her. As Chaeyoung peered at her, her head rose, revealing her face, and then their eyes met.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

It was her. The girl in the limousine.

Somehow, Chaeyoung’s mouth managed to perform a quick holding action before she disintegrated completely and fled into the back like a coward. “So, that’ll be four fish burgers and four Cokes, okay? Okay.” Once the words had left her mouth, she pivoted on her heel and speed-walked to safety, ignoring the faintly outraged noises coming from behind her.

“Yeri,” she said, coming round the counter to press the notebook into Yeri’s hand, “I need you to help me prepare this order. And bring it to that table. Please.”

Yeri looked as though she was about to protest, but then she took a look at Chaeyoung’s face, and what she saw there was more than enough for her to accept without complaint. As she retreated into the kitchen, Chaeyoung took over and started taking orders. It was late, though, and the dinner crowd had mostly returned to their ill-maintained public flats. This wasn’t a bad thing, as it allowed her to keep an eye on the four girls, especially Girl No. 4.

The situation was not promising. Girl No. 4 (Sally? Sally.) kept turning around to stare at her. She managed to process four orders before “Sally” rose to her feet and started to stalk over to the counter. Even from quite some distance away, it was obvious that she was tall, statuesque, and utterly out of place in this dinky little restaurant. Chaeyoung wasn’t even sure if the other customers were deliberately retreating out of her way or merely taking a step back out of instinct, but either way -

“Hi, can I speak to your manager?”

Jae-beom dipped his head, cringing, and disappeared into the kitchen to get Yerin. The look of him - his sycophantic posture, his hunched back - ignited something in Chaeyoung, and suddenly she was absolutely furious that she’d been so servile when speaking with those four girls… especially “Sally”, who, now that she thought about it, was most likely Sally Zhou, the daughter of the founder of Zhou’s Kitchen. Given that she’d just thrown a strawberry at Sally Zhou’s face the other day, and given that Sally Zhou most likely knew this, she’d most likely be out of a job shortly, leaving her with a pile of rapidly dwindling savings. She had nothing to lose, but that didn’t mean that she’d leave her job in an undignified manner. No - she’d march up to her, and tell her and her friends exactly what she thought of her, before leaving with her head held high. She refused to be fired; instead, she’d quit - no. She wouldn’t quit; instead, she’d voluntarily relinquish participation in an exploitative business and invite all her colleagues to join her, even Yerin. Yes, especially Yerin.

The next order which Chaeyoung took was delivered by a customer who, upon catching a glance of her face, stammered out his order and beat a hasty retreat. By that time, Yerin had exited from the back and was now conducting what looked like a very orderly conversation with Sally Zhou. Neither of them glanced at her.

 _I need to plot my relinquishment of participation_ , Chaeyoung thought, shakily, adrenalin flooding through her system, and called for Sohee to take over.

\-----

“I’m, um, going to go and take a look at the kitchen,” Sally said. “And use the bathroom.”

“Use the bathroom?” Natalie made a face. “Here, take my wet wipes.”

“I’ve got a ton,” Sally answered, already rising to her feet, acutely conscious of Sharon’s vaguely suspicious stare on her back, and made her way quickly to the counter. The boy there scurried into the back to get the manager, giving her a few spare moments to examine Strawberry Girl, whose face had gone tight and furious. That (to Sally, at least) was odd; after all, she’d only taken her order. What reason did she have to be angry? That strawberry incident was one thing; this was another. Sally was a forgiving person.

“Hi, Ms Zhou!”

“Oh, hi.” Sally blinked and ran through her half-finished plan again. “I’m, uh… just wanted to ask about that employee of yours who took our order.”

“Son Chaeyoung?” The manager nodded. “I hope her behaviour -”

“Oh, she was perfectly polite.” Sally adjusted her wristwatch. “It’s just… well, aren’t we supposed to order at the counter?”

“Of course, of course!” The other woman’s eyes swiveled from side to side; was she nervous? “It was just that… uh… you were taking a while to come to the counter -”

“Forget it, it’s fine.” As Chaeyoung disappeared into the back, she switched tacks. “May I take a look at the kitchen?”

“Of course, of course!”

“Without supervision.”

A few hasty nods later, Sally was squeezing past the counter staff and into the kitchen. Surreptitiously, as she squeezed past a chubby boy with sweat stains blooming across his armpits, sprinkling pepper over a pile of chicken tenders, she raised one hand to her face and pinched her nostrils shut. It was very cramped in the kitchen, and very hot as well; above and beyond the stink of sweat, the smell of oil and grease suffused the air. And the sanitation… well.

As she stumbled past a makeshift desk which had been set up in the back, the air suddenly cleared, and Sally glanced over her shoulder, realizing that she’d exited from the kitchen. But then, if she’d exited from the kitchen… where was Strawberry Girl?

_Chaeyoung. Her name is Chaeyoung._

Right, Chaeyoung.

Sally wandered around for a bit, noting down where all her father’s employees put their civilian clothes, and glancing here and there at the stacks of empty cardboard boxes piled up in corners. Eventually, she came to a door. Outside, the night sky stretched on for miles; Sally blinked, startled by the sudden darkness, and let the door swing shut behind her.

Chaeyoung was there, pacing; she’d changed out of her uniform, into a pair of ripped jeans and a shabby T-shirt, and glanced up as Sally emerged from the building. The look on her face turned venomous. “You!”

_Me?_

A finger pressed into her chest, and Sally was so surprised that she took a few steps back. Chaeyoung was glaring up at her, incandescent with rage, and for the first time Sally realized that the other girl was short.

“Do you think any of this is humane? Do you?”

Sally took another step back.

“Your family is exploiting workers! We’re working for long hours on minimum wage, and we’re tired. We’re so, so _tired_ of slaving away without sufficient compensation, sufficient leave, sufficient humanity! Treat us like human beings, god damn it!”

One arm swept to the side to encompass the restaurant.

“And the food you serve - do you know how unhealthy it is? People eat here because they have no alternative, and you prey on that, you really do. So they come back for more, and more, and more, and then one day they wake up with heart disease and diabetes! Living in this city - and no thanks to you for that - takes a toll, but you can afford to pay it, can’t you?”

Sally opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“And you have the gall - the _gall_ \- to pull your strings and have me fired just because I dirtied your dress? Well, forget it! I _quit_!”

“Hey!”

Sally glanced up to the side, at the crumbling tenement building behind her father’s restaurant. A lone silhouette flung something down at them; instinctively, Sally jumped back and stared as an empty beer bottle shattered on the concrete pavement.

“Some of us,” the silhouette shouted, “are trying to sleep here! Fuck off!”

It wasn’t until Sally turned back to Chaeyoung that she realized that her hand had closed around the other girl’s arm. Chaeyoung glanced down, made a small noise of disgust, and wrenched her hand away. Sally’s head spun.

It felt like a few hours passed, but - in retrospect, at least - Sally’s response was quite prompt, and quite swift.

“My dress wasn’t dirtied,” she murmured, weakly, and took another step back as Chaeyoung whirled back to face her. “And, um, you’re not going to be fired.”

That, at least, seemed to stop her in her tracks.

Sally breathed in. “I just wanted to, um, talk. Didn’t really plan much beyond that, but… it’s a moot point, anyway.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it.

 **Jocelyn:** _wru? foods here_

Another breath. “Anyway,” Sally continued, clearing her throat, “that’s… yeah. Um. If you want to head back early, though, I can have a word with your manager.”

“No, wait -”

“It’s fine,” Sally managed, stumbling away, sifting through her options and eventually deciding to go around the front (she didn’t want to go back through the kitchen). “You should… um. Get a good night’s… yeah.” Her heartbeat thumped in her ears.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Natalie began, turning around in her seat. Her mouth was full. “You went into the kitchen -” A pause. “What happened to you?”

_I got told off by one of my father’s employees._

“Got lost,” Sally said, and smiled wetly. “Think I’d like to go back now.”


	3. in which chaeyoung orders a cup of water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @candypoppin on twitter

The barista blinked at Chaeyoung. “I’m sorry?”

Chaeyoung folded her arms. “One cup of water,” she repeated, with the air of someone who was attempting to teach a baby how to talk.

“Ma’am, this is a Starbucks.”

“I’m not going to be a willing party to the exploitation of labour -”

“She’s not ordering,” Dahyun interrupted, one arm slipping around Chaeyoung’s narrow shoulders, and flashed a quick grin at the barista. “I’ll just have the latte. Thanks!” With more than a little force, she manoeuvred Chaeyoung away from the counter - and from the increasingly disgruntled line of thirsty customers behind her - and into a quiet corner booth. Around them, the ebb and flow of conversation fluttered through the coffeehouse. If that had been her intention, Chaeyoung could have eavesdropped on their discussions… but she doubted very much that there was anything of value in them.

“So,” Dahyun blurted, fidgeting in her seat, “spill. How badly did you fuck up?”

“I didn’t _fuck up_.”

“You called me at two in the morning,” Dahyun pointed out, quite reasonably. “I’d say that counts as fucking up.”

“I just felt guilty.”

Dahyun raised an eyebrow. “Guilty over… ?”

Chaeyoung sighed. “Okay. Do you know someone called Sally Zhou?”

Dahyun spat out her coffee all over the table. “ _Sally Zhou?_ ” she screeched. More than a few heads turned.

“Not so loud,” Chaeyoung hissed, and glanced at the waitress advancing on them with a towel in hand and a mutinous look on her face. “I’ll take that,” she said, slightly louder this time, and took the towel from the waitress’ hand, mopping down the table in a few short, brisk swipes before handing it back to her with a quick “Thank you.”

“Oh,” the waitress managed, caught slightly off-guard. “Uh, I’m supposed to clean the table for -”

“We’re going,” Chaeyoung insisted, grabbing at Dahyun’s shoulder. “We’re going. Thank you for your service.” _And I hope you live to see the abolition of wage relations_.

Once Dahyun had caught her breath and cleaned herself up, Chaeyoung hustled her out of the Starbucks and back onto the sidewalk, eyes hardening - as they always did - as she took in the “scenery”. This part of town wasn’t so far from the northern edges of the city, but it looked - and smelled, and felt - so different that it may as well have been another country altogether. It was how the city’s finances were handled, and Chaeyoung _hated_ it.

“Jeez,” Dahyun wheezed, blowing her nose loudly and making a face as a few dribbles of caffeine-scented snot dotted her tissue, “if you’re going to drop a bomb like that, make sure my mouth isn’t full first!”

“How would I know?” Chaeyoung snapped. “We haven’t met in months!”

Dahyun subsided. “I guess.” A pause. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” _No. It’s your university’s fault… forcing its students to choose between staying true to their roots (and their pre-university friends) and rising ever-higher on the ladder of capitalist society by “taking advantage of the available networking opportunities”._ “You’ve got a lot of extra-curricular stuff now, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dahyun threw her wad of tissue paper into a nearby bin (a bin that wasn’t overflowing - wow!) before continuing. “Well, uh, I’m involved in a bunch of community outreach stuff, and, uh, tutoring. I tutor other students.”

“Not bad. How much do they pay you?”

“I -” Dahyun purpled. “How’d you know? Couldn’t I have been doing it out of the goodness of my heart?”

“The Dahyun I know wouldn’t have hesitated to extort a bunch of lazy, rich idiots.”

“Point. $50 per hour.”

Chaeyoung whistled lowly as they strolled into a carefully-manicured municipal park. “ _Nice._ ” The park was quiet, and the trees were well-tended, their branches blocking out the sun. As the two of them wandered deeper into the park, joggers started to appear, whizzing in both directions. Some of them were decked-out in Air Jordans and wearables; others were wearing breathable singlets and had AirPods stuffed in their ears. Come to think of it, the northern neighbourhoods were already gentrifying - the apartment block next door was in the process of evicting all its residents - and that must have been why Sally Zhou and her friends had been willing to visit a “crime-ridden, unsafe” part of the city - at night, no less!

“Hey.” Dahyun nudged her with her elbow. “Spill! We’re in the middle of a public park. No one’s going to overhear us.”

“Okay.” Chaeyoung inhaled deeply, glanced around, and pulled Dahyun down with her to settle heavily on a park bench, where she could keep a close eye on the unfortunate soul who was slumbering just opposite them. “Right, so… you know I work at Zhou’s Kitchen, right?”

“Right.”

“Yesterday, Sally Zhou and her friends dropped by.”

“What?” Dahyun held up a hand. “No, wait, let me try something. There were four of them.”

“Yup.”

“Uh, one of them had crooked teeth. The other one had a ton of moles. And the last one…”

“Yes and yes.”

“The last one looks like a dog, right?”

“A dog?” _A dog?_ “… sure, I guess.”

“That’ll be it.” With a satisfied smirk, Dahyun sat back in triumph. “The four of them always move around together.”

“Look, I couldn’t care less about the other three,” Chaeyoung snapped.

“Right, sorry. Continue.”

“So, my boss asked me to take their order, because they looked like they were waiting for someone to take their order - so out-of-touch, by the way - and that’s what I did. But Sally recognized me, and while I was sorting out my order, she went to the counter to talk to my manager. I thought she was going to get me fired, so I decided to quit first, so I left by the back, and then she followed me out, and then I…” Chaeyoung paused for breath. “… I kinda lost my temper.”

“Oh, wow.” A beat. “But why did she recognize you?”

“Because I hit her in the face with a strawberry a couple weeks back at a protest?”

“Oh, shit, that was you?” Dahyun whipped out her phone - _well-used and not overly decorated with consumerist imagery_ , Chaeyoung noted approvingly - and pulled up Twitter. “You were trending!”

“I wouldn’t know,” Chaeyoung pointed out. “I only use WhatsApp.” A pause. “But how long was I trending?”

“Like, a day?” Dahyun tapped at her phone before brandishing it at Chaeyoung. “See!”

_god i wish that were me #strawberrygirl_

_ICON #strawberrygirl_

_now if only that fruit was something harder and heavier, like a ball bearing… #strawberrygirl_

“That last one kinda missed the point.”

“Mm?”

“Never mind.”

“Right.” Dahyun adjusted her spectacles, shoved her phone back into one of her many pockets. “Anyways, you lost your temper, you feel bad. Do you feel like you’ve vented sufficiently at me yet?”

“Not putting your psych degree to good use, are you?” Chaeyoung retorted, smartly, and dodged Dahyun’s half-hearted swipe. “No, um. I was actually wondering what you could tell me about her.”

Dahyun squinted. “Seriously?”

“What’s with that look?”

“Uh, never mind.” As Dahyun cleared her throat, Chaeyoung thought how ill-matched the two of them looked, seated side-by-side on a park bench - she in her combat boots and hoodie, and her best friend decked out in a pastel sweater and red sneakers. “I mean, I guess you know she’s rich. Right?”

“No shit.”

“She’s got a brother, but I guess you saw him in that limousine. She’s a model, too.”

“A model?”

“Slow down, tiger,” Dahyun chortled, pulling out her phone. “See?”

 _@salzhou_ | _237 posts_ | _40.5k followers | 149 following_

“You’re following her?”

“I follow pretty much everyone at my university. Clout-chasing, right?” Dahyun locked her phone and laughed at the look on Chaeyoung’s face. “If you want to get another look at her, you’re going to have to sign up for Instagram. Good luck with that.”

_Hmph. Maybe I will._

\-----

“… Sally? Sally?”

“Mmm?”

“Earth to Sally,” Natalie cackled, reaching across the table and poking her on the nose. “Still moping?”

“I’m not moping.”

“She’s not moping,” Sharon added. “Come on, I drift off all the time.”

“You’re not moping,” Natalie finished, and took a sip of her soju. Her eyes softened. “Look, are you still shaken by last night? You don’t need to be. I’m sure that bitch was just taking out her anger on you. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Jocelyn commented, glancing up from her phone. “I mean… what’s her problem? I’ve half a mind to sic my uncle on that district.”

“Please don’t,” Sally said, automatically, and bunched up her hands in her lap. Her mind regurgitated a stock excuse. “It’ll be bad for business.”

“Fuck business,” Jocelyn retorted. “She insulted you! Emotional hurt! That’s lawsuit-worthy, that is.”

“No reason to clamp down on the entire district, though.”

“Forget it,” Sally cut in, tiredly, and managed a small smile when Jocelyn closed her mouth, halting her rebuttal to Sharon in its tracks. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. Just… shaken. I’m not one for confrontations.”

“It’s okay,” Natalie soothed, and leaned over to hug her briefly. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Jocelyn glanced around the table. “ _Anyway_ ,” she announced, enunciating the word carefully, “Jennie’s inviting us to her house this Sunday.”

“Jennie Kim?”

“Do you know any other Jennie?”

As Natalie - and, to a lesser extent, Sharon - jumped into the conversation, Sally leaned back in her chair again and stared through the floor-to-ceiling window, out at the city below. From this high up, encased behind glass and concrete, in one of the tallest buildings in the city, she fancied she could see everything… everything that mattered, at least. Over there was the city hall, from which Jocelyn’s family had ruled the city for the past couple of decades. Minatozaki Tower was some distance from that, and the crown jewel of Sharon’s family - the Metropolitan Hospital - squatted, its name done up in lights, on the right. From here, she could even see her university, and the waterfront, and its legions of bars, pubs and restaurants, and - on the other end of the canvas - almost a quarter of the vast tracts of land that comprised the city’s suburbs, where the mansions were. Where everyone’s mansions were.

The entirety of the southern reaches of the city stretched out before her, but when she tried to look further afield, at the northern districts, there was nothing. What little she could see of the northern districts was half-hidden by the monumental skyscrapers and elegantly-designed apartment buildings that made up everything that was beautiful about the skyline. Was that supposed to be a metaphor for something? Sally wasn’t sure.

But _oh_ , she had been so angry.

She.

Son Chaeyoung.

Sally hadn’t seen that sort of anger in a while. In fact, she didn’t think she’d seen that sort of anger before. Indignation, of course - but anger? Genuine anger? It was like… it was like she’d lived in Norway all her life, and was only just getting a taste of the Mediterranean sun. (Sally had been to Oslo and Naples, so she knew what she was talking about.) Then again, that implied that her family had been cold, which was -

She didn’t want to think about this anymore.

“Oh, look,” Natalie was saying, brandishing her gold-plated iPhone at them. “Jennifer Kim’s engaged!”

“Jennifer Kim?” Sharon gasped. “But she’s gay!”

“Who isn’t?” Jocelyn grunted, and Sally noticed that her gaze had dropped to her own martini, away from the conversation. “There are ways around it.”

For a moment, the table was silent, save for the clink of cutlery from neighbouring diners.

“Does anyone want to watch the _Captain Marvel_ sequel?” Sally asked, schooling her lips into a smile. “My father just got his hands on it. They say it’s still in post-production, but one of my cousin’s associates slipped a copy over to him. We just got it the other day.” She’d already watched it, actually, but another viewing couldn’t hurt.

“God, yes,” Natalie blabbered, eyes flicking to Jocelyn. “Where? Your indoor cinema, or by the pool?”

“Why not by the pool?” Sharon asked, draining her brandy in one gulp and rubbing her hands. “It’s warm enough tonight, after all. I’ll call my chauffeur and have him bring over our new stereos. They’re incredible, you know, but your projector is better…”

Sally kept up her end of the conversation until Jocelyn looked up, eyes sparkling, and made as if to rise to her feet. “Let’s do it,” she said, a bit softer than usual. “Well? What are you people waiting for?”


	4. a party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @candypoppin on twitter
> 
> surprise dayeon!

A droplet of sweat trickled down from Dahyun’s mop of hair, sliding down her temple and making its leisurely way past her cheekbones, down to the jut of her chin. Her eyes had narrowed to little slits, focused on the surrounding landscape, tracing the pavement as it slid past, slower and slower.

_Just a few more metres… a few more… and… alright!_

The Uber driver turned around in his seat and squinted at her as his car came to a stop. “Here, miss? Are you sure?”

They had come to a stop in front of the very epitome of picket-fence mediocrity, a small patch of land ringed by carefully manicured high hedges and brick walls topped off with iron spikes, hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of construction material fencing off an exorbitantly expensive McMansion housing an unhappy family of unfulfilled unfortunates. None of the lights were on, and it looked distinctly unfriendly.

“Yes,” Dahyun retorted, unperturbed. “Here.” Dumping a roll of notes into the driver’s hands ( _oof ouch owie, my wallet_ ), she made to get out of the car.

“But they don’t look like they’re hosting any sort of event,” the Uber driver tried.

Dahyun didn’t reply. She’d opened Google Maps on her phone, and had plotted a path to her intended destination. She’d ridden with Uber many times in the past, and had - through trial and error, to be sure - derived a method of saving as much money as possible on her trips while ensuring that she walked (and thus sweated) as little as possible. It was this arcane and highly complex mixture of guesswork and calculation that had determined the destination of this particular trip.

As she tramped along the pavement, Dahyun fished a handheld fan from her bag and used it to cool herself down. The neighbourhood in which she had found herself was on the outskirts of the city, and she was firmly in the suburbs at this point. After no less than five minutes of brisk-walking, her pace slowed down, decreased further, and finally ground to a complete halt.

_Wow._

The Kim mansion loomed up before her, an illuminated masterpiece of marble and glass, dominating the top of the hill on which it was perched, ringed by high walls that - somehow - did nothing to hide any part of the mansion from view. A long line of cars were idling in front of the mansion, disgorging party-goers in an unending stream, and Dahyun allowed a brief tremor to overtake her before stuffing it back in its box where it belonged and marching up the hill, past giggly sophomores and well-connected freshmen, all the way up to the door. “Hi,” she said, smiling at the bouncer and pulling her invite out from her pocket. “Kim Dahyun. I have an invite?”

“You’re good to go. Have a good evening, miss.”

As she walked through the doors, Dahyun allowed herself to think - just for a moment - that she was the only one who’d been polite to the poor guy.

The party was already in full swing, and Dahyun had never felt as out of place than she did in this very moment. She recognized most of the people hanging around, engaged in conversation, but it was almost as though there was an invisible barrier between them, separating her from the rest. Was it because she wasn’t as rich as them? Or was it because she didn’t have an English name? No matter; she hadn’t gotten this invite by being rich. She’d gotten it by calling in favours.

_Well, time to get to work._

\-----

Jocelyn found Jennifer outside on the balcony, staring out over the city.

“Hey.”

Jennifer turned, gave her a wan smile and drained the amber liquid in her tumbler. “Hey yourself.”

Carefully, Jocelyn stepped out, inhaling sharply at the cool breeze worming its way through her hair, and joined Jennifer. “How have you been?”

Jennifer shrugged. “About as well as can be expected.” She looked down, eyes half-closed, and laughed bleakly. “The cost of obedience, I guess.”

“What about Rosé?” Jocelyn asked, gently, her heart twisting. “Is she…”

“Oh, she’s down by the pool,” came the reply, almost immediately, and Jocelyn turned to look. She’d dyed her hair blonde again, but Jocelyn would’ve recognized Rosé from a mile away regardless. “I think she’s gotten over me already. As she should.”

“Fuck this,” Jocelyn said, suddenly, venomously, and Jennifer laughed. “No, Jennifer, I’m serious. _Fuck_ this. Don’t you love Rosé? There must be a way out of this.”

“I’m afraid not,” Jennifer sighed. “My parents have made it very clear. Either I marry him, or they cut me off. Look at me, Jocelyn. Do you think I’d be able to survive out there, in the jungle, all on my own, without my Chanel and my chauffeur and my dog? And Rosé - I can’t do that to her, Jocelyn. You know that.”

Jocelyn scoffed, turned away and drained her flute of champagne. “This is fucked up, Jen. It really is.” A pause. “He’s not going to lock you up at home and force you to fuck him every day, is he?”

Another wan smile. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

 _Goddamn right I’m scared_ , Jocelyn thought, but the words wouldn’t come out. In any case, Jennifer understood. “He’s a decent chap,” she continued, softly, and gave her a one-armed hug. “And, y’know, if it doesn’t work out… there are treatments. There are procedures.”

“Not in a million years,” Jocelyn said, fervently. “Stay in touch, alright?”

“Always.” But Jennifer had already turned back to stare out at the city, and Jocelyn knew that something had changed between them that could not be switched back. In public, they’d treat each other exactly the same, but in private - in settings such as these - no longer. This would be - this _was_ \- their new normal.

_God, I need a drink._

Overtaken by a sudden and inexplicable thirst, she stumbled back indoors, tripping down the stairs. Sally and Sharon were right where she’d left them, huddled together in a corner, not talking to anyone but people whom they knew from university, like the wallflowers they were. Natalie, on the other hand… _Eh, they’ll find a way to survive without me around_. She slammed her flute of champagne down on the bar, snapped her fingers for the bartender, and demanded vodka.

A few seconds passed. No vodka was forthcoming.

“Hey,” Jocelyn repeated, a bit impatiently. “Hey. Vodka. Are you deaf or something?”

“Oh, _hey_ ,” said someone, from over her shoulder, slimily, and Jocelyn made a face. “Jocelyn Im, right? Can I buy you a drink?”

“Jennie’s paying for everyone’s drinks tonight, but it’s your money,” she shrugged, rolling her eyes, and turned around to face her unwanted partner for the night. He was easy enough on the eyes, she supposed, but in every other respect… _eh_. So-so. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” _Displeasure, more like._

“Oh, I’m Chris. Chris Gwan.” A name card was proffered, and Jocelyn took it, stuffed it in her purse, and made a mental note to throw it away later. _Who brings name cards to a party, anyway?_ “I’m, uh, in your class. I really liked that presentation you gave, you know, that one on municipal waste disposal -”

“Well, _thank_ you. Always nice to meet a fan.” A glass was pressed into her waiting hand, and Jocelyn heaved a sigh of relief. _Thank god, a drink._ As she drained her glass, an awkward silence descended, and Chris - to his credit - seemed to be well on the way to taking the hint. But then he opened his mouth.

“I was wondering, actually, um, if you’d like to, uh, get out. For some. Fresh air.”

_Oh, this will be fun. He’s so… inexperienced._

“Yeah, nah.”

“No?” Chris’s eyes bugged out, and Jocelyn had to stifle a bleat of laughter. He’d clearly not had much experience with rejection. “Whyever not?”

“Not interested. This is a pretty nice compound, isn’t it? It’s brightly lit, there’s a bar right behind me, there’s music, there’s a pool…” Jocelyn lifted out her phone from her pocket and waved it lazily. “Oh, and there’s Wi-Fi. That’s always a plus.”

“I, uh -”

“Oh, Chris! Hi, Chris!”

“Dahyun?” _Dahyun? Why doesn’t she have an English name?_ Jocelyn hadn’t used her Korean name in years, though it was always there, at the back of her head. Carefully, she inched backwards, her back hitting the counter, and watched with some amusement as Chris was accosted by a girl a full head shorter than him. “What are you doing here?”

“Never you mind,” came the instant retort, and Jocelyn laughed into her second glass of vodka. “Chris, why haven’t you paid me?”

“Payment?” Chris stammered. “I - I - come on, Dahyun, give me a break. I’m - look, I was ill…” He was glancing at Jocelyn now, painfully aware that this Dahyun girl was embarrassing him in front of her and thus ruining his chances (not that they hadn’t been in the dumps before this highly entertaining incident).

“Well, if you can’t pay, just let me know! It’s no skin off my back. I’d like you to return me my notes, though… you know, the ones I loaned you? The ones I took three hours to compile?”

“Look, Dahyun, can we do this another -”

“Nope.”

“God. Look, I’ll get it to you on Monday!”

\-----

As Chris stormed off into the crowd, red-faced, Dahyun grinned and swept her hands through her hair before turning - as nonchalantly as she dared - to Jocelyn Im and clearing her throat. “So, uh, was he… bothering you?”

“Oh, not at all,” the mayor’s niece replied, shifting on her stool. “In fact, we were having a very scintillating conversation before you barged in. He was complimenting me on my presentation on municipal waste disposal.”

“Oh.”

A high, loud peal of laughter followed, and Dahyun felt something inside her loosen up. _At least I haven’t offended her._ “Nah, I’m just kidding. Boy doesn’t know how to flirt.” The other girl rose to her feet and set her glass on the counter. “Who _are_ you, anyway? Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh, uh, I’m studying psychology, but I dabble around a lot.” Dahyun shoved her hands into her pockets and trailed just slightly behind Jocelyn Im as the crowd parted before her. Before long, they’d emerged out into the open, into the balmy night. Most of the party-goers had clustered by the pool, but the two of them went in the opposite direction, into the small hedge maze that had been built for the Kim family.

“This maze is one of Jennie’s favourite places,” Jocelyn Im said, in lieu of an explanation, as she sauntered past a statue and plopped down on a cold bench. “Most people don’t really come in here, because it’s pretty difficult to find your way out, especially if you’re blackout drunk.” She leaned forward, stared up at Dahyun, and waited for her to sit down before continuing. “And, anyway, my question wasn’t what course you were taking, but _who you are_. Parents? Siblings? English name?”

“I, uh -”

“Oh, no, wait.” Jocelyn Im taped her chin, squinted. “It’s coming to me. You’re one of the charity cases, aren’t you?”

“I’m on a scholarship,” Dahyun replied, stiffly, warmth flaring in her cheeks. Why had she intervened, anyway? She should’ve just left this ungrateful girl to Chris’s tender mercies. She’d hobnobbed enough for the night, anyway, and it was well past her bedtime.

“What are you doing here, then? Oh, wait.” Another mocking squint. “You’re a social climber! Tuition, calling in favours, dressing up as though you belong here…” A dry chuckle. “Hilarious. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dahyun. What’s your surname?”

“Kim.”

“Kim Dahyun,” Jocelyn Im repeated, rolling the words around in her mouth. “Well, Kim Dahyun, I’d like for you to leave me alone. I’ve got a lot to think about, right now, and having you sitting here, right beside me, is not helping my self-control.”

 _Ungrateful_.

“I’m sorry?”

 _Oh, shit._ Dahyun clapped her hands over her mouth, mind whirring, taking in how Jocelyn Im’s hands had curled into fists and how her eyes had narrowed into slits. It was a split-second decision.

“There’s no reason to mock me,” she retorted, tartly, and folded her arms. “If you wanted me gone, you could have just asked, you know, but instead you led me on a merry ride all the way into this - this hedge maze, and even asked that I sit down -” here Jocelyn Im opened her mouth, but Dahyun held up a hand - “yes, I know you didn’t verbally ask me to sit down, but it was implied - only to call me a charity case. _Please_. I may be a charity case, but at least -”

“ _Don’t call me ungrateful_ ,” Jocelyn Im hissed, shooting up to her full height, shuddering with rage, and Dahyun closed her mouth. “I’m grateful, alright? Don’t call me ungrateful. I’ve swallowed my grievances for the past twenty _fucking_ years, and I’ve kept my mouth shut as all my friends have leaked away, one by one, to become _fucking_ broodmares, and I’ll _continue_ keeping my mouth shut because I’m a _fucking_ coward, but _I’m not ungrateful_. I’ve _never_ abandoned my friends.”

Things were silent for a while.

“Feeling better?” Dahyun finally said, mildly, and proffered a tissue paper.

Jocelyn ( _it’s about time I dropped her surname, anyway_ ) snatched it up from Dahyun’s hand, swiped at her eyes angrily, and blew her nose with a loud _honk_.

A few minutes passed.

“Well,” Dahyun said, finally, rising to her feet, “I’ll see you around, I guess. Miss Im.” Clearing her throat, she shoved her hands into her pockets and stalked away, Jocelyn Im’s eyes boring into her back.


End file.
